Aaron Collins' Mechanisms Chapter 2
by Psychoflop
Summary: Fabio begins his story


Chapter 2: Parisian Catalyst

It was on Fabio's 13th birthday (16 days before the Summer Solstice: June 5th 2002 in the calendar I know, the 5th day of the Michelangelo Moon Cycle, 2030 Da Vinci Calendar in this universe). His family took him to Paris for 2 weeks as a gift. His description of the 1st few days he was there vaguely reminded me of my Paris: They were constructing Arc Du Napoleon at the time (which was like the Arc de Triomphe, only smaller. How appropriate), and there was most definitely several buildings networked together by tunnels that made this world's Louvre, but I had to restrain myself as Fabio either skipped the Eiffel Tower or it simply didn't exist. On day 4 he visited the west end as he needed a break from paintings and wished to see a more…industrious side of the town.

Fabio was not disappointed; the sights and smells of the lumber mills were quite fascinating: Well built older men carting big giant logs from the French countryside into the mill, their fates to be determined. Due to the distance he had to keep to avoid getting injured, he grew bored, and after a quick lunch (roast quail and his first taste of caviar, which he only pretended to like) he asked his father to take him on a boat ride. Fabio really loved the sea as a boy, but his heart was somewhere else. Somewhere his parents didn't like, but grudgingly supported:

"Papa, in just a few years I will ready to pitch for the Benchura Angels."

"Young Fabio, why must you want to play baseball? It is such a vulgar sport."

"Oh papa, do you not understand the physics behind pitching? One can throw the ball really fast, really slow, make the ball change direction in mid-air…there is no better allegory of the balance between art and science in our society."

His father smiled, knowing Fabio had a rational argument. His next approach was one parents use across the multiverse: guilt by distance.

"Well why would you want to play in New Japan? Surely there is a French Republic League, isn't there?"

Fabio clicked his tongue 7 times (normally I would argue as to how he could remember such a minute detail, but from I know as to the events of that day, I did not argue with Fabio. Some days burn into all of our minds) and replied, "No papa, there isn't. The closest league to our home is in the Eurussian commonwealth. A look of terror went over the face of his father, realizing that there were worse plagues there than in New Japan. He had figured out that Fabio knew this as well, and patted his son on the head. The captain of the boat then announced, "_Alia km iri"_ (Another km to go). Neither of them paid much mind

"I can see you put forth some adult thinking into this."

"I have Papa, I really have."

"Well then I believe in you. Just as long as you get an education in a university first…and maintain your cliano lessons."

"I promise, papa. Just as I always have."

"Yes, but my dear boy, you are a becoming a man. Promises made by men count as more than promises made between a boy and his father."

"They do? Well my promise remains."

They reached the dock nearest their hotel room; Fabio was so excited to see his mother across the street that he ran to greet her, despite both of his parents' protests…

…and the gearbike that didn't slow down, even in hitting a 13-year old boy.

He had drifted in and out of consciousness for several days. Fabio declined from describing the pain he was in during his few waking moments over that stretch of time, and I will never press him for it. He was later told that the driver was drunk, and he was the first of over 50 children that summer to be hit by drunks driving gearbikes. Most were lucky to only lose 1 or 2 limbs, but over a dozen died. People were outraged that people were driving so recklessly, effectively forcing the French Republic into a prohibition. As I've been lead to understand, people look back on this as the "summer of gears". I couldn't help but feel empathy for the whole republic, as I value my sobriety but do not wish such tragic things to force others away from alcohol, if they so choose. Returning to Fabio, his first full day awake was when he saw his new arm it was a dark grey metal throughout the arm. A metal ball inside his shoulder socket apparently served as an indicator as to future growth in Fabio's body.

"Every time the arm falls out, it is time to replace it with a new one." said the local Gearist, a young man named Antoine Depardieu (who left the room horrified by his own words, especially after both of Fabio's parents stared daggers into him). How Fabio heard that over his immense depression is something I will never understand. "I'm a gearbody now." which came with a weeping no one should ever have to experience. The arm Fabio lost was his pitching arm, and even if he could teach himself how to pitch with his other hand, New Japan (and every other league on the planet) would never accept a gearbody into their league. How sad that in this world (that is supposed to be in a second renaissance), is actually worse in its' treatment of the handicapped.

"My dream is dead Papa, my dream is dead."

His parents held him as tight as they could, the world make look down on gear bodies, but his parents did not. They knew that their son was broken, in more ways than one. "We still love you, little Fabio. We still love you." Fabio felt little solace in those words, but somewhere deep inside him, I suspect he was grateful to still feel anything at all. "I will keep my promise to you Papa, I will keep up with the cliano lessons and my education, dream or not." "There's no need to think about that now." Antoine returned with a large bottle with blue liquid inside, "This will help your body know not to reject your new arm, and it will help your mind send signals to the arm to move your fingers, like you would on a real arm. Go ahead and take some now, I promise it doesn't taste awful."

Fabio nodded and took his first dose of the gearbodies elixir, Noresigohol. His brain took to it immediately, and he was slowly moving his new fingers around in various grips and whatnot (essentially playing a piano that wasn't there). No smiles out of him for a while that day, though. He lamented during supper, "I'm a gear body now, a second-class citizen…at best."

By now, Mr. Ammuri was fed up of his son's moping around, "Fabio, listen carefully because I am only going to say this once: You are not a second-class citizen. You are my son and I love you just as much now as I did before the accident." Fabio accepted his father's honesty, and that was the beginning of him pulling himself out of 1 of the worst depressions I had ever heard of…

…But that was the 2nd second happiest moment of that day for him. The 1st was a few minutes after they had finished eating, the Gearist returned with a young woman (18 years old, Brown hair, flowing green dress) "Fabio, this is the opera singer, Chiara Malvestiti. She's touring the French Republic medical facilities and when I told her that there was a cliano player in our midst's, she insisted on meeting you."

For Fabio, it was love at first sight, "Wow, Chiara Malvestiti! Hello, it is my honour to meet you."

For Chiara, it was the same feeling, "Hello Fabio, I'm deeply sorry about what happened. You appear to be such an innocent fellow." she then sang a song to him that she had just written a few lunar cycles prior, a song that would become, "And let the innocent dream."

He applauded raucously "I'll live. Hopefully this won't set back my cliano lessons too much."

"I believe in you. And if you keep practicing, you can audition for me when you are of age and when my current cliano player retires. Or maybe I'll just use 2 players."

"Or I could understudy for him for a while if he's interested."

"Fabio, you're a genius." and Chiara kissed him on the forehead. She should not be feeling this way about a boy 5 years younger than she, but she could not.

"I have to speak to your parents for a moment, and then I have to be off to rehearsals. It was an honour to meet you."

"Likewise."

Fabio's mother interrupted them, "Fabio, we'll be right outside."

"Ok." and exited Chiara with Fabio's parents to a corridor.

"As Antoine told me, you are all on vacation, correct."

"Yes, we live in the Ferme province."

"Amazing, he could walk to my private practice space."

Chiara then flagged down an orderly and wrote something down on a scrap of paper, "This is the address of my practice space. Keep Fabio playing and send him to me when you feel he's ready."

They parted company, with Chiara hoping that she wouldn't have to wait as long as 5 years.

She didn't.


End file.
